


Keep You Safe

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Related, F/M, Lady Survives, Protective Sandor Clegane, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: A canon-divergent spin on what might have happened if Sandor would have saved Sansa's beloved Lady.





	Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maracuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/gifts).



> This story was written for the Sansan Secret Santa event on Tumblr. The prompt was posted by @thedropletsparkled (Maracuya here on AO3):
> 
> "Canon-era; Sandor saves lady."
> 
> Since I tend to swim over in the modern AU pond most of the time, I wound up taking some liberties with GRMM’s canon to fill this prompt. I do hope that you will enjoy my version of events, Maracuya! 
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

_A direwolf is a savage beast.  Sooner or later it_ _would have turned on your girl_ _the same way the other did on my son._ _Get her a dog; she'll be happier for it._

\- Robert Baratheon to Eddard Stark

 

Cautiously, Ned scrutinized Sandor as he removed his gauntlets and slowly knelt in front of Lady, who was curiously watching the giant man’s every move.  Staring hard into the direwolf’s golden eyes, Sandor nodded and offered her his hand to sniff.  Ned’s eyes widened when Lady stuck out her muzzle, catching a few whiffs before leaning into Sandor’s touch and allowing the scarred man to stroke her like her own mistress might.

Regardless of the touching little display, Ned still didn’t trust Sandor as far as he could throw him.

“You’re the sworn shield of the king’s heir,” he said.  “How do I know that this isn’t some sort of trap?”

The huge man snorted in amusement while rubbing the direwolf’s back.  “You don’t.”

Jory stiffened, his grip on Ned’s greatsword tightening in anticipation of what may come.  Holding up his hand, Ned shook his head.  He looked at his long-time friend who continued to glare at the Lannister’s dog.  Jory had been by his side through countless trials.  He’d always had the Starks’s best interests at heart, and he would die fighting to defend the lot of them.  If Ned agreed to Sandor’s nefarious scheme and it failed, what then?  He’d be sentencing not only his entire family to their immediate deaths but the men sworn to protect them as well.

Turning his attention once again to Sandor, Ned still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  The Hound, one of the most feared men in all of King’s Landing, was smiling like a boy while massaging Lady’s thick gray ears.  The direwolf, in turn, collapsed into a furry heap on the ground, snuffling in total ecstasy while Sandor scratched her stomach.  It was almost as if Lady approved of the horribly disfigured man.

“Why offer to do this?” Ned asked.  “Why risk helping me?”

Without looking up, Sandor’s hands froze mid-stroke.  “I’m not doing it for you.”

Ned’s gray eyes narrowed when the enormous man said nothing else and continued his tender treatment of Lady.  Why in the name of all the old gods would this brutal beast of a man care about saving Sansa’s direwolf?  Sandor had no motivation to help any of the Starks.  Surely, the man must know that Ned didn’t like him or the fact that he was often assigned to watch over Sansa.

“Who then?” Ned demanded.

Sandor closed his eyes for a moment.  He inhaled and exhaled sharply.  As his eyes opened, the massive man rose to his full, impressive height and slapped on his gauntlets with a force that betrayed his frustration.  “You’d best decide quickly, Stark,” he said.  “The Lannisters don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tensing when Sandor’s hand rested on the pommel of his sword, Jory stepped in front of Ned in a protective strike.

“It’s alright, Jory.”  Ned barely smiled as he placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “He’s not here to fight us.”

Though he continued to scowl at Sandor, Jory nodded.  “The North stands with you, my lord.”

Ned swallowed hard as he looked between Jory and Lady, who was panting from her resting position at the massive man’s feet.  Sandor was right.  Time was running out.  He needed to choose.

_Why is it always the innocents who suffer most?_

Calling Lady to him, Ned squatted to rub her ears.  “Choose four men and go north,” he said to Jory.  Ned returned his hard stare toward Sandor, who stood as still and as silent as a statue.

Jory didn’t bother to hide his astonishment.  “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain,” Ned vowed, “the Lannister woman shall never have her skin.”  Once again, he focused on the young direwolf.  “I’ll keep you safe, girl.  No one will hurt you.”

 

***

 

Although Ned and his bloody sidekick had doubted him, Sandor knew all along that spiriting the animal outside of camp would be far easier than the Northmen had imagined.  He knew the ins and outs of King’s Landing better than anyone else in this godforsaken city.  Just as he had predicted, all it had taken was a few dragoons in the watchman’s palm followed by the sharp edge of his broadsword nestled against the terrified man’s throat to “encourage” the bugger to look the other way as he’d ridden out of the city with the direwolf in tow.

Now alone in the woods with Sansa’s beloved Lady, Sandor lifted his gray eyes toward the darkening skies while waiting for the members of the Starks’s guard to arrive.  They were due any minute to meet him here to collect the direwolf and take her north.  Where they planned to release the poor creature, Sandor did not want to know.  Should his act of treachery ever be discovered, it’d be best not to possess too many details on how he’d helped rescue Sansa Stark’s pet.

Thinking about Sansa and her direwolf led to him thinking about his youth.  He’d always had an affinity for animals.  Unlike people, they were honest and didn’t give a damn how a man looked.  He remembered that as a wee lad before his father had died, a stray dog had shown up at The Keep.  That mangy cur was nothing to look at but it had quickly stolen Sandor’s heart.  The pair became inseparable.

It’d been that same dog, too, which had comforted Sandor like no one else could after he’d been subjected to Gregor’s moment of malevolence on the brazier.  Holding vigil by his bedside day and night, the enormous black beast of a dog refused to leave Sandor’s side.  It’d been a short comfort, though, since like all things Sandor loved, it was taken away by violence.  Even now, after all these years, he could still hear the dog’s cries when Gregor. . .

Sandor took a deep, deliberate breath.  Since Sansa had arrived in King’s Landing, he’d envied the girl’s wide-eyed wonder while hating her for it all the same.  Once long ago, he’d dreamed of honorable knights and all the rubbish that went along with it.  Reality had read him a different fairytale, however.  The girl needed to learn that for herself, he’d told himself over and over again, and like most young women, Sandor had imagined that she’d wind up learning it the hard way.  To be sure, he’d reminded her of that fact every chance he’d gotten.

King’s Landing was no place for animals let alone children.   The city was far too brutal for the innocent.  One could smell the death and decay in the air.  Ned had been a fool to bring his young daughters here.  He should’ve stayed at Winterfell with his family.  He shouldn’t have willingly entered the lion’s den.  Ned had everything a man could want in life; why risk it all for his beloved honor?

Interrupting Sandor’s reverie, Lady nudged his huge hand with her equally as huge head.  His scarred lips curved into a slight smile when he looked down at the demure direwolf who was looking back at him.  It was sitting there straight as an arrow, her front paws neatly placed against each other and her tail tucked snugly against her.  Bugger him to the seven hells and back if that animal didn’t seem just as proper and ladylike as its mistress sometimes.

Sandor knelt beside Lady and rubbed her back, not ungently, as he thought about Sansa.  She’d broken down when the hateful queen had demanded the death of the young girl’s direwolf because her sister’s beast couldn’t be found.  To be honest, Sandor hadn’t cared at first.  He’d done his fair share of killing over the years, both people and animals alike.  He’d killed more than he could remember while working for the Lannisters.  He’d experienced so much carnage in his twenty-seven years that the death of another innocent being didn’t make him flinch.

Yet, here he was trying to save the life of an animal that wasn’t even his own.  Perhaps Ned didn’t have the market cornered on foolish behavior after all.

It had been Sansa’s pleas for the life for her beloved Lady that had snapped something deep inside of Sandor.  As Ned and Jory had led her direwolf to its imminent doom, Sandor felt his throat tighten and his heart race.  Though he couldn’t explain why, he’d felt Sansa’s anguish all the way to his very soul.  It wasn’t the first time that the pretty young Stark girl had gotten under his skin, but it’d been the most intense.  It was like she was calling to him, begging him to do something.

Hearing the hooves of the horses in the distance, Sandor rose to his feet.  The Stark bannermen would be here to take Lady any minute.  He looked down into the innocent, childlike eyes of the direwolf.  He couldn’t put his finger on why he felt connected to Sansa right now, but it reassured him all the same.

“I’ve kept her safe,” he said into the looming darkness.  “No one will hurt her now.”

 

***

 

Trudging across the snow-covered ground outside of Winterfell, Sansa felt invigorated by the brisk, bitter air as she made her way to the edge of the woods overlooking the castle.  She paused for a moment, pulling her heavy fur cloak tighter around her form, while she looked into the gray sky.  The fat, fluffy snowflakes gently falling upon her were dusting her ginger hair and settling on her pale face.  She closed her eyes.  This was home.  This was where she belonged.

Looking upon her ancestral home, Sansa’s thoughts drifted to the day her father had brought the litter of direwolf pups home and how eager she’d been to cradle her Lady in her arms.  All of the Stark children, including Jon, had been so happy then.  How quickly their lives had changed.

Thinking about Lady and her youth made Sansa think about the man who’d help to change her world view.  So many years had passed since the night of the Blackwater, and so much had happened in her own life that she sometimes thought herself mad for thinking about him at all.  She couldn’t help herself, actually.  Even after all these years had transpired, she still felt an unusual connection to him.

Sansa closed her eyes as she imagined what Sandor might think of her now if he saw how she’d become the Lady of Winterfell.  The fanciful notions of her youth had been murdered long ago with the death of her father and family.  She no longer dreamed of valiant, noble knights; she no longer wanted to marry a handsome prince and have his babies.  No, Sansa’s world now was ruling the north and taking care of its people.  Would he find it amusing that the silly little bird had become a strong, fiercely independent leader?  Would that please Sandor?

Opening her eyes, Sansa decided that with the snow fall falling heavier now, it was best to return to the castle before Arya or Brienne came looking for her.  Before taking another step, however, she heard a wolf’s howl in the distance.  Startled, Sansa turned toward the sound.  On the ridge, she saw the silhouette of an enormous gray direwolf, its mouth lifted toward the sky as it sang a mournful song into the crisp evening air.  As the animal finished, it turned its attention toward Sansa.  Though a woman alone in the forest with a giant beast staring her down should have unnerved her, she wasn’t.  In fact, as the direwolf ceased its song and slowly began to approach her, Sansa was at complete peace.

The closer the animal came, Sansa’s curious blue eyes narrowed.  The direwolf reminded her so much of her beloved Lady, it was uncanny.  With its thick gray ears, its yellow eyes. . .

“Lady?” she all but whispered into the woods surrounding her.  The direwolf froze in place, its thick ears pricking forward.

The sounds of hooves pounding on the snow startled her.  Quickly, Sansa glanced over her shoulder toward the direction of the castle.  Brienne was riding hard, galloping as fast as her horse could manage considering the conditions.  Sansa looked toward the ridge again.  The direwolf had vanished.

 _You’re being ridiculous, Sansa,_ she admonished herself.  _Lady is dead.  Gone like the rest of them as well as Father and Mother and. . ._

“Lady Sansa!” Brienne called out to her as she brought her horse to a halt and dismounted, “I have good news!”  Briskly, she walked toward Sansa, giving a bow of respect before standing at attention.  “Jon has just returned.”

Still in a haze, Sansa blinked rapidly.  “That is good news,” she said.  “Please take me to him, if you would.”  She took a few steps forward, but her movement was halted when Brienne stepped in her path.

“My lady, I should warn you that he is not alone,” Brienne hesitated.

Sansa smiled pleasantly at her trusted protector and friend.  “Have you forgotten that Jon sent a message ahead of him to let us know that  - ”

“Clegane, my lady.”

Sansa stiffened like a statue.  “Excuse me?”

“Sandor Clegane is one of the men whom your brother has brought with him.”

Sansa gasped.  “Sandor?  Sandor is _here_?”  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “But. . .how?  How is that possible?”  When another howl echoed in the distance, she snapped her head toward the sound.  There on the ridge stood the gray direwolf she’d just seen moments ago.

“Shall I tell him to leave immediately?” Brienne asked.

Sansa ignored the harsh, stern tone in the older woman’s voice.  “No, Brienne.  Take me to see him at once as well.”  Turning her full attention to Brienne, she couldn’t help but grin.

“But, my lady - ”

“I know you worry about me, but really, I’m perfectly safe,” Sansa smiled as she clutched Brienne’s arm.  “No one can hurt me now.”  When the much taller woman nodded in obedience, Sansa let out a breath she was certain she’d been holding since Brienne had uttered his name.


End file.
